


Air castle

by FakeCirilla9



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Learning Magic, F/F, Fireplaces, Fluff, M/M, Nurmengard Castle (Harry Potter), POV Alternating, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, There's A Tag For That, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/FakeCirilla9
Summary: Gellert is a sociable psychopath. Credence is lonely. Queenie wants everyone to like her. Vinda likes her a lot. And Nurmengard is their castle in the air.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Gellert Grindelwald, Gellert Grindelwald & Vinda Rosier, Queenie Goldstein/Vinda Rosier
Kudos: 10





	Air castle

Gellert walked into the parlour to the sound of giggles. And if that behaviour could be considered normal for Queenie, a smiling Vinda was an unusual sight. Especially that no muggle was tortured in her presence. Gellert regarded his second-in-command and his newest follower.

“Have I interrupted something?”

“Not at all,” Vinda, tactful as always, drifted to the side, even though she didn’t need to walk for the teapot as it could fly towards them.

Gellert took the place next to Queenie. The legilimens tensed immediately.

“Tea?” she asked, remembering good manners.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Gellert leaned closer to her. “What about the boy? Any progress in your research?”

“He likes animals.”

“Really, as a born legilimens, you could be more inquisitive.”

Queenie started to explain, but Gellert put a hand upon her smaller one, stopping the ramble. The touch was reassuring, despite its coldness.

“Next time you’ll do better.”

*

As soon as they were left alone, Vinda’s hands came to rest upon her shoulders as she stood behind Queenie’s seat. The warmth seeping through their point of contact was pleasant. In her presence, Queenie always felt cared for and safe, even though not being able to read her mind was a bit unsettling at times.

“I just feel like a spy,” Queenie burst out, though she could hear no reproof. “Like I’m betraying the boy.”

“You can only spy on or fight against an enemy and here we are all on the same side.”

“Are we?” Queenie glanced up, searching Vinda’s face for the reassurance she couldn’t draw from her thoughts.

“Of course,” Vinda said, looking down at her. She rubbed her shoulders. “You did nothing wrong.”

The time between them seemed to come to a halt like on that rainy day in Paris. The moment stretched and Vinda made a move like she wanted to let go, but Queenie grasped her hand.

“Oh no, don’t stop. That felt so nice… If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I don’t mind.”

***

The last golden autumn leaves fluttered in the gust of wind. They quivered almost like living things, appearing to clutch to the oak bough before they were swept by the air flow. They danced, floating above the ground for so long they seemed to fly and after a moment Credence saw that they indeed transformed into a swarm of butterflies. Their wings glowed in the quickly falling dusk, and now the beings resembled lightning bugs more. The time of a year was too late for any such animals but it was magic and magic could conjure anything. The insects became little flames at last, the will-o’-wisps chasing after one another.

“Do you like it, my boy?” the man asked.

“It is a beautiful magic,” Credence admitted.

Grindelwald stood behind him. He was close but not touching. Ever since New York, he waited for Credence to initiate any physical contact between them.

“And practical. Fire can save you in many ways.”

“Like the flames you conjured at Père-Lachaise?”

Gellert snorted. He couldn’t help it in the face of such ignorance, even if it was fully justified by the boy’s sheltered upbringing.

“No. Nothing as elaborate. A simple fire is not able to discern your friends from your foes. But Prometheus’ gift to humanity provides many advantages: it can warm you up, it can heat your food, or signal where you are…”

“If I wished to be found.”

“If you wished,” Gellert acquiesced. “I know you have run for a long time from those who chased you. Now, however, you have friends.”

The boy inclined his head, turning away from the spectacle of lights around them, half-facing Gellert. Flames reflected in his dark eyes, making them glow ominously.

“You count yourself among my friends?”

“The real question is,” Gellert countered, “do you consider me a friend of yours?”

“For a long time, it was you whom I run from.”

“But finally, you came into my arms.”

“So you could use me again,” the youth spat, turning his back on Gellert again.

Grindelwald leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear: “So I can teach you magic.”

“Teach me how to conjure a flame, then.”

***

Vinda cornered him in a library when he was picking up a book on pyrotechnics. Her supple form leaned against a wall-length bookcase.

“She was just being polite.”

The French-accented words came out of the blue so much it took Gellert a second to fathom who she referred to.

“I don’t need a small talk from Queenie.”

“Perhaps she needs it from you. She loves to feel useful.”

His most trusted devotee kept surprising him when it came to the American girl.

“She is useful to me,” Gellert muttered, not really paying attention to the discussion. “Would be more if she contributed to her task more thoroughly…”

Opening the book he was holding, he flipped a few pages to gauge if the level was suitable for his purposes. Vinda didn’t move, however. Gellert could feel her intense stare on him. He snapped the book in his hands shut and looked up the crossed arms, the green dress and pale décolletage into the equally green eyes.

“The sooner I get what I want, the sooner I’ll leave you two to…” in response to his words, Vinda raised her eyebrow and Gellert frowned, “to whatever you two are up to.”

He moved towards the exit.

“Actually,” he paused next to Vinda on his way out. She inclined her head, attentive. “You may pass my acknowledgements to Queenie. Her laconic advice turned out to be concise, it seems.”

***

The hearth was so big Modesty could probably walk into it without needing to bend her head. The stock of firewood was matching in size. A pile of boughs looked like half of their supply for the entire winter season in Credence’s previous life.

“Perhaps you will show me what you’ve learned from the book I gave you?” Grindelwald prompted.

Credence stroked the warm wood of his wand. The moment he touched it for the first time, it became instantly familiar. It felt like the thing was made especially for him. It belonged to him. Its presence calmed him ever since he had taken it from Gellert’s hand.

Nevertheless, he felt nervous.

“There is a difference between reading about something and actually doing it.”

“With your talent, it shouldn’t pose any problem.”

The dark wizard didn’t get what Credence was trying to say.

“I’m not worried that I can’t do it,” the youth clarified, “but that I can do too much. Maybe we should start lessons outside the castle?”

Credence looked around at all the luxury surrounding them: at the arrases on the walls with moving pictures stitched on them, at the hunting trophies and luscious furniture.

“You need to learn control, my boy,” Gellert countered. “What better place to do it than here? Besides, whatever you do, I can handle it.”

These words weren’t empty bragging. Credence remembered how Gellert had approached him that time in New York, unhesitant, unafraid, rapt even, when everyone else around had been running for cover. He had worn another body back then, but he was still the same man.

So Credence braced himself and cast the spell.

“Incendio!” he called but what came out of his wand resembled more the effect of a Fiendfire curse.

A big fiery bird emerged from the glowing tip and scudded towards the fireplace. Credence directed it the right way but he couldn’t curb the intensity of the flare. As the made-up eagle flapped its imposing wings, the flames licked the walls on both flanks of the hearth. The stone did not catch fire but the dark smears stretched far to the sides before the combustion contained to the fireplace. The residue sparks from the tail fell on the rug before the hearth and it blazed like a fatwood. Credence’s skin felt hot.

Gellert threw himself at him and dragged him backwards, whirling them around like in a dance figure. The man hunched over the boy protectively, shielding Credence from the inferno of crackling woods with his own body.

“Are you all right?” The mismatched eyes ogled Credence as Gellert held him in his arms.

Credence hated that he heard the genuine concern in the wizard’s voice while it was all another act put up to lure him in. It couldn’t be anything else but another plan conjured up to use him for Gellert’s purposes. And the worst was the fact that he was falling for it once again.

Credence shook off Gellert’s hands.

“I’m fine,” he spat. “But your room will be not in a moment.”

The blue eye twinkled and Credence couldn’t tell if it was from mirth or annoyance at being pushed away. Gellert turned away from him, however, and silenced the roaring flames with one spell. He extinguished the conflagration like one would fizzle out a candle with wetted fingers.

“That was marvellous, my boy,” Gellert praised. He sounded like he meant it and Credence’s heart, despite himself, swelled in pride. “Do it again,” the dark wizard encouraged.

“I’m not sure…” Credence protested.

“It will be all right, just don’t wave your wand so much. Try like this,” Gellert presented the gesture without words.

Credence repeated the movement.

“Almost.” Gellert approached him. “May I?”

The man stood close beside Credence, so close that their bodies brushed each other. Gellert aligned his arms with Credence’s. “That hand is important too. Keep it more backwards.” Gellert pulled gently at Credence’s elbow of the wandless arm. Credence breathed out. Gellert pretended he didn’t notice the boy’s discomfiture. His second hand slid along Credence stretched out arm. Long, pale fingers encircled the skinny wrist. They stroked the inside of the hand in a maddeningly familiar gesture, even though the last time Gellert had done it, he had worn another’s man’s shade.

Belatedly, Credence realized Gellert was talking to him, explaining the correct move.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” he muttered.

“Like this,” Gellert moved Credence’s palm, rolling their joined hands. “The hold firm but fingers not too stiff.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Credence conceded.

Gellert stepped away to give him space. Credence made an effort to not dwell on the fact how much colder it was without another’s presence right next to him. The spacious chamber was cooling very quickly without a fire crackling in the enormous hearth.

Letting go of the distracting thoughts, Credence waved his wand once more.

The fire burst out again but it was a bit weaker this time. It tapped the chimney-piece but did not scorch the rag before settling into the designed frames.

“Bravo, my boy, bravo.”

Over the familiar drawl of Gellert’s voice, there came higher in pitch tones from the doors.

“That could set the Thames on fire, it was amazing!”

Credence whirled there to see Queenie.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but I made some cocoa and I thought maybe you would like some?”

A tray hovered behind her, with steaming mugs on it.

“What would you say to a quick study break, my boy?” Gellert’s words surprised Credence but the man was ever mindful of keeping his best acolytes in good humour and since Vinda favoured her...

***

Vinda approached the chamber, attracted by the unusual sounds of many-voices conversation that was not a brainstorm session for another action or exchange of political views.

“Never? You must try it with whipped cream and marshmallows!” Queenie exclaimed.

Vinda drew near the door in time to see the legilimens conjuring up the confectioneries and floating them towards the obscurial’ cup.

“Do you…?”

“No, I’ll pass,” Gellert’s voice rumbled.

Vinda altered her position to see it with her own eyes because the pictures of the previous dialogue and of their cause’s leader did not match each other in her head. But there he was, partly obscured by the boy’s tall silhouette. They all sat in armchairs and the big fire crackled behind their little gathering, casting everyone in warm lights. Shadows played across Gellert’s sharp features as he leaned forwards.

“It’s a terrible business when you have a moustache,” he said in a lowered voice like he was sharing a secret with them.

Queenie tittered and moved to put her mug down on the tray. Vinda caught her eyes and the look in them, already joyful, turned elated.

“Vinda!” Queenie called. “Come join us!”

Something inexplicable drew her towards this fragile creature from the first time she saw her lost among the crowd of muggles. Therefore now she joined the merry circle as well, despite its appalling family atmosphere. It should unnerve her more, Vinda thought, as she was handed a steaming cup of melted sweetness, but somehow, Queenie could make all things so bright, even the life of a housewife might be interesting in her rendition.

Realizing she’s staring, Vinda tore her gaze off the beautiful American and looked towards the men. She saw Gellert wiping the boy’s mouth off the milk moustache. It may be the fire light but the pale hollow cheeks seemed to blush. Her impression was strengthened when Gellert smiled. He looked as relaxed as Vinda hasn’t remembered him for a very long time. And although he might be simply pleased that the plans are going his way, the light shining in his eyes spoke of genuine happiness. She hadn’t seen this look on him even during his rallying speeches or when he intimidated someone he suspected was disloyal to the cause.

Vinda cupped the mug of cocoa in her hands and reflected that they would made a very strange family indeed: with herself and Queenie for one thing and Gellert with his boy for another. However, wasn’t this what they were fighting for? The freedom to be ourselves… Looking at Queenie, Vinda could even believe these words were more than candied promises.


End file.
